Wake Up
by petals-to-fish
Summary: "You're just a silhouette of the girl you once were..." XxX pinkpoetrysalad requested "Lily is in a car crash and James talks to her throughout the coma because I want to watch the world burn" so you can all blame her for this one.


**PinkPoetrySalad requested "jily in a car crash because I want to watch the world burn" so here you go Pinky...Lily's world burns...**

* * *

You've lost it all.

Your red hair is in a tangled mess behind your head. Your fingers are purple and blue from lack of movement. Your skeletal structure is easily seen through your frail freckled skin. You can no longer sing or dance. You don't remember the last time you felt rain soak into your skin or sunlight burn at your scalp.

You're just a silhouette of the girl you once were.

You're cold and you're broken and you have no sense of time. You only know that you were in an accident. A car hit you and you cannot move without significant difficulty. When it first starts you have many visitors. Everyone cries over you and begs you not to forget them but now they're the ones who have forgotten you. Your eyes are damp from tears and the only thing that can bring you from the brink of death is when his voice rings in your head.

"Lily, wake up."

You can hear him through the dense black haze obscuring your awareness. You can feel his hand sink into the mattress, so close to yours. Your pinky moves and brushes against the familiar uneven skin. Even without looking at his handsome face your heart race picks up and the monitor beeps somewhere in the back of your mind. You try to move your fingers, try to pick his fingers up and into yours, only for your body to shudder in defeat when you cannot even move your hand an inch.

"Try again Lily."

Your eyes swing open and capture his face like a photograph before they close again. He looks worse than the last time you saw him. He's got bags under his eyes. You ache to run your hands through his black hair. You long to speak to him, to tell him you're trying.

The shadows settle back down around your mind and you don't know when he leaves but he does.

You're forever missing him.

You can feel every fingertip pressing into your skin and you can feel every needle. The cold pierces through your skin like ice and in contrast, something flows into your veins, setting you on fire. Crying is an involuntary reaction at this point.

"It's just medicine." An unfamiliar voice ushers kindly, "To help you sleep better."

You don't want to sleep; you want to wake up. You feel as if you've been sleeping an eternity. You feel as if it's been years since you've opened your eyes longer than a few seconds. You forget what some things look like. You forget what it's like to feel grass under your toes. You forget pain other than the pain in your head.

He comes to visit, like always, you can sense him like he's a drug you just can't get enough of. The irony is comparing him to a drug because you don't want any more drugs. You don't want anything that makes you feel like you're on fire…except for _his_ fingers dancing across your skin.

"Lily, wake up."

Your eyes flutter open and you crack a smile before falling back into your void.

"No baby," his lips are against her ear _pleading_ , "Wake _up_."

You're trying; you want to do everything he desires from you. His desires, after all, were your own. You can't even grasp his _name_ but you know, you can _feel_ just how much you love him. You love him.

"You could go home." He cries into your shoulder, "If you'd just _wake up_."

"Mr. Potter," a new voice cuts through his, "the doctor wants to speak to you about your wife."

He leaves and you cannot go with him. You are a ghost stuck between the world of the living and the world of the dead. You're lying on your back, watching the world turn while simultaneously feeling like it isn't turning at all. Every bit of you wants to die but every part of him wants you to live. It's a never-ending cycle of feeling like you ought sink and he thinks you can fly.

"When you finally get out of here, I'm marrying you again." He kisses your forehead, "And again," he kisses your cold lips, "And again, _everyday_ , until we die of old age at _exactly_ the same time because I won't live without you."

You still see flashes of bright colors. Reds, greens, and blues. You see them in your dreams but you're dreams are nightmares. They are nightmares where someone screams your name and you are incapable of running towards him or her because you are hit by something you cannot see.

"They think you're giving up."

 _You are._

"You cannot give up on me."

You don't want to give up on him, you want to give up on yourself.

"You have to wake up. Lily, _please_."

Electricity sparks through your skull. Your eyes open and stay open. He is leaning over your chest. Your hands are clasped together. His hair is a wild mess atop his head and his name is on the tip of your tongue.

"When I met you, you seemed capable of anything. You can still be that girl." He murmurs into your chest, "You've got a warm heart and you've got that beautiful smile. I'd give anything to see that smile again."

You want to tell him, _"help me out of this shell I'm in,"_ but you can't even reach for him when he's not looking at you.

You want life to take over your every orifice.

You want to be his sun again, instead of his black hole.

"I remember when we were kids and you said you wanted to go to Greece. I'll take you there. I'll take you anywhere, as long as you wake up." He kisses your fingers and you feel warmth for the first time in a long time, "Oh Lily, of all the places I can take you, I just want us to go home."

You remember home.

A little kitchen sink piled with dishes.

A sunlit window with plants lining the edge and growing over green and flowery.

A man with jet black hair leaning across the kitchen table to playfully brush flour across your nose.

A warm kiss that you want to keep close to your heart.

A pair of hazel eyes that meet yours underneath maroon sheets.

"James?"

His head shoots up and your eyes meet his for the first time in what feels like decades. You smile and he _blazes_. He moves impossibly slow but to you it's impossibly fast, like wildfire. His hot fingers caress your face. Your eyes search behind his glowing smile for reassurance. You try to move your hands, try to reach for his hair, but you're still frozen.

" _James_."

You don't recognize your own voice; it has been so long. There are tears falling from his cheeks onto your face and he calls for a nurse. You flinch when more people enter the room and James is torn away from your side as more machines are hooked up to you. Cold dots are placed on your forehead and your heart races as you are unceremoniously dropped from the colors back into the dark.

When you wake back up he is waiting for you.

You feel as if he is a fire, melting your icy shell. The colors around him are so warm and tender. As soon as he notices you're awake he moves to the side of your bed in frenzy, fingers clasping yours like he'll never let you go again. You have a growing need to always be beside him and he feels it too because now he rarely leaves the bedside. You sleep and wake up like a normal human being now and he is always right there by your side when you wake up. Most of the time he is awake, reading or texting. Your favorite time is when he is asleep. He sleeps in a chair next to your bed; his head leaned forward so it's resting beside your hands. You love waking up to him sleeping next to you, his eyebrows twitching behind his lopsided glasses.

One morning you wake up and James is snoring slightly. At night his hands had slipped against your side, keeping you warm. His black hair is inches away from your palms and you, without thinking, reach out your fingers and slide them through his silky hair adoringly. His hazel eyes pop open and stare at you in wonder as your fingers slowly move across his scalp.

You say pointedly, "You need a haircut," and he laughs like he hasn't done in quite some time.

From there, the laughter doesn't seem to stop. He brings you pictures and videos of happier times. You remember your wedding day as tenderly as you recall the wedding night. You recall quiet moments in front of the television with their labrador, Padfoot. Your body grows accustomed to the way his fingers create trails of fire when you're alone at night.

One afternoon while reading a book with him curled up in the hospital bed beside you, your toes brush up against his. Your hand grasps his firmly under the covers. You cannot stop smiling.

The smiling gets harder when you start physical therapy. James is there every small step of the way but sometimes you want to strangle him when you feel as if you can't walk another step, even with assistance. He is unbelievably positive and you are unbelievably tired.

"If you say ' _one more step'_ one more time," you threaten as you hold onto your walker with white knuckles, "I _will_ throw this walker at you."

That only makes him smile more and lean in to kiss you admiringly, "There's the fighter I love."

You love him too, so much so that on nights he cannot stay with you, you cannot sleep very well. You've grown accustomed to his body next to yours on the small hospital bed. By the time you do fall asleep you dream about the next time he will be in your arms.

"Lily, wake up."

Your eyes flutter open and meet his suntanned face, aglow with his normal fervor. You reach for James and envelope him into a hug that you never want to end. He let's go of you though to lean back and beam at you. The morning sun filters through the open window and creates a golden halo around his head. You consider that he's yours, this glowing man with twinkling hazel eyes. You know how lucky you are to have someone who never gives up on you, even when you wanted to give up on yourself.

James' fingers brush your auburn hair behind your ear and he leans in to kiss your nose gently. You want more, always, so you run your fingers through his hair again to get a good grip on his black strands, pulling his lips to yours. James smirks against your coveting mouth. You ignore the languish way he kisses you back, as if he has all the time in the world. You kiss him as if you are running out of time.

James pulls away all too soon.

You grumble, eyes still closed, "I'm not done kissing you, James Potter."

"I have a better idea."

"Doubtful."

His next words set her mind reeling, "How would you like to come home with me today, Mrs. Potter?"

Your eyes pop open, "What?"

He chuckles at your disbelief, "You get to come home, Lily."

You achieve a smile wider than his, "Home?"

He presses his forehead to yours, " _We_ get to go home."

All at once, you've gained back everything you'd lost.

* * *

 **Thanks Pinky for making me want to drink an entire bottle of wine with my pizza tonight.**

 **all my love,**

 **Petals**


End file.
